


For I Have Sinned

by oceanofdarkness



Series: Deadly Virtues [2]
Category: Operation: Endgame (2010), The Tournament (2009)
Genre: F/M, Priest Kink Crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanofdarkness/pseuds/oceanofdarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father MacAvoy hasn't seen Hierophant for some time, but she comes to confession the week before Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodydeath11](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bloodydeath11).



> Christmas Eve smut ficlet for my favorite graphic artist

Father Joseph MacAvoy hears confession from 6:30 to 8 on Wednesday evenings in addition to making himself available by appointment. It is currently 7:58 on Wednesday evening. He slumps against the wall of the confessional, heaving a resigned sigh. Several of the more devout parishioners had come in just before 7, but he’s spent the better part of an hour sitting frustrated in an empty church. In fairness, it is the week before Christmas, and everyone is bustling about with more to do than usual, but the holidays only account for several weeks out of the year. His tiny church is most often empty except for early mass on Sundays. He can’t remember precisely any more whether the apathy of his congregation is the cause of his drinking or the result. He rubs a hand over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose against the remnants of a headache, and is about to rise when someone slides into the confessional booth. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and looks down at the hands clasped in front of him.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”  

MacAvoy’s head shoots up and he straightens immediately. That honeyed drawl is unmistakable.

“Hiero?” he squeaks.

There is a low chuckle from the other side of the partition. “I know I’ve never really done this before, but I always thought it was supposed to be more... like, nameless?”

“Well, if you were actually here to confess...” 

“Oh, I am,” she assures him, her drawl getting thicker by the syllable. “I’m afraid I’ve been havin’ a few impure thoughts.”

He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat. His vows are broken, but to make a mockery of the Sacrament of Penance in the service of lust is far beyond even that. He simply cannot allow this to progress. Still, he can’t deny that he is... intrigued with the question of what the brazen little blonde is going to say next. She’d stayed with him less than a week before leaving for God only knows where, but in that time he’d discovered that she’s more of a weakness for him than he could have imagined. Once he’d succumbed to her attempts at seduction, he’d been utterly lost to her. He’d neglected his duties at the church, suspending mass for the week on the barely valid pretext that the sanctuary was unsafe until repairs could be done, and spent those few days in bed with the pretty assassin instead. He wants her still, more than he has ever wanted any liquor, his head swimming even now with thoughts of sinking himself into her wet heat.

“See, Father,” she goes on, “I’ve been havin’ these really detailed fantasies about seducing a priest in his own church.” She pauses to let the idea sink in. “I’ve had the notion off and on since I was about sixteen, but lately it’s gotten really... specific.” 

He allows his eyes to close, jaw clenching in an effort not to groan, and draws in a shaky breath. 

“These last few weeks, what with the season and all, I can’t stop thinkin’ about showin’ up for Christmas Mass in a trench coat. I could even probably get by with a red one on Christmas with all of the holiday clothes... of course, then I’d have to go with white stockings...” She trails off. “I’m gettin’ a little off topic though, aren’t I, Father? I mean, why would you be interested in what I’d wear to seduce my priest?” Her voice is a teasing whisper and he finds himself leaning closer so that he can make sure to hear every word. He understands that she’s doing it on purpose to draw him in, knows that he should protest, but he does love to listen to that voice... something about her drawl goes straight to his cock and he finds it difficult to focus on anything else. “I mean, it doesn’t really matter, except that the point of the trench coat really is to give the impression that there’s not much more underneath... you know, to get him thinking in terms of flesh?” Oh, he knows... and flesh is just about all he  _can_  think of right now.

He can see the tilt of her head through the lattice of the partition, can imagine the playful gleam in those gorgeous blue eyes looking up from under her lashes. Now would be the time to get this back under some kind of control... and if he could only get the thought of his little assassin in stockings and little else out of his head, he might be able to remember why that would be a good idea. As it is, all he can seem to focus on is the image of her lovely legs encased in pure white fishnet and wrapped tight around his hips.

“Of course,” she goes on, “I know that the sin doesn’t really have anything to do with what I’m wearin'...”

He isn’t certain that this is true. He can picture her easily, sitting in a front pew at Christmas mass, wrapped up in a demure little coat, crossing and uncrossing her legs to flash just that little bit of thigh that she knows will leave him hard and hopelessly distracted. All the thoughts in his head about what she might be wearing have  _everything_  to do with sin.

“The real sin,” she drawls, “would be in tempting a man of the cloth. I wonder... “ she goes on in a speculative tone, “... if I could manage to make him think about takin' me on his altar?”

Oh yes... and she doesn't even have to work for that one. That pretty little picture has been in his head already, along with the one of her kneeling at the same altar to take him in her mouth. Perhaps he should be confessing to her. 

"I mean, I can just wait out the rest of the congregation to get my priest all alone. I'm a patient woman when I need to be. Then what do you think, Father? Drop the coat so he can get a good look at all that lace and skin or let him take it off himself?"

"That would depend on how quickly you wanted to get his attention, my child." He is surprised by how calm he sounds, and pleased when her sharp intake of breath tells him his instincts about how to gain some ground in this little game are right. She recovers quickly enough, though.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure by that point I'll already have his attention, Father."

No doubt of that. There is a husky quality to her voice now and he wonders if she is touching herself, the thought almost enough to undo him. 

He'll have to keep her far away from Christmas mass. There's no way he could possibly stand before his congregation as he is now... his cock is impossibly hard, his breath nothing more than rough gasps. His hand goes to his lap, palm sliding over the bulge at the front of his trousers.

"And, uh...  once you have your priest's attention... what then?"

"Well, Darlin'..." She giggles when she hears his groan at her use of the endearment, "once I have the good father's attention, I plan to fuck him, hard and fast and  _very_  dirty."

"How?" he pants, the hand in his lap rubbing harder. "Tell me."

"I wanna be bent over that altar in nothin' but stockings and heels, teasin' my clit while you fuck me hard from behind, Darlin'."

"Oh, yes" he whispers. He is unsure when he thought to free himself, but his cock is in his hand with the thought of the pretty little blonde, ass in the air and her legs spread wide for him. 

He decides that he should just go to her and lead her to the altar if that’s what she wants, but before he can act on the notion, the door of his compartment opens and she’s leaning against it, wrapped in a bright red trench coat with matching stilettos, a positively wicked smile curling along her full lips.

“I believe I might’ve got your attention, Father.”

His only response is a groan as he reaches out to grab her hand and pull her to him. She goes willingly, fingers slipping into his hair as his hands grip her waist to tug her close. He feels her fingers skimming the length of his arm and then she’s guiding his hand to the belt tied around her waist.

“Don’t you wanna open your present, Darlin’?”

He looks up at her, hands unsteady as he works at the knot holding her coat closed, and offers her a wicked smile of his own as the thing falls open.

“Drop it,” he rasps, and she shrugs it off her shoulders and lets it fall to the ground. She wasn’t lying when she said the only thing he’d find under the coat was skin and lace. She’s wearing very little... a lacy white bra, a lacy white garter belt, and white fishnet stockings. He groans and pulls her down onto his lap, muttering a harsh ‘ _fuck’_ when he feels her slick folds against his exposed cock.

She giggles and nips at his lips. “That  _is_  the general idea, Darlin’.”

His teeth are scraping against the side of her neck and she releases a soft hum of pleasure as she rolls her hips, rubbing herself against him.

“Do you want me, Father?” There’s a teasing lilt to her drawl but he can hear impatience in it as well.

“God yes!” He sucks the sensitive skin of her neck into his mouth, a hand tangled in her hair to hold her in place, and she sighs and lets her head fall back to expose more of her throat to his lips and teeth. He makes his way down to trail along her shoulder with his tongue, then dips his head lower, taking the lace of her bra into his mouth and tugging it aside. He nips at a breast, earning him a needy little moan as she reaches down to guide him into her... and then she’s moving. She quickly finds a rhythm and, true to her word, fucks him hard and fast. He swallows her screams when she shudders and clenches around his cock, hissing her name against those lovely red lips when he follows and pours himself into her. 

He holds her on his lap, hands running over the curve of her ass as he nuzzles into her curls. “Not quite the altar,” he observes, then chuckles and feels her lazy smile against his throat.

“Later, Darlin’,” she drawls. “We will  _definitely_  get to that later.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _For I Have Sinned_ was meant to be a one-shot, but then I got this prompt…  
>  **MacavoyxHiero: (Deadly Virtues verse) They make it to the altar.**  
>  and it kind of got away from me, so…

It is rare for Joseph MacAvoy to wake without any trace of a hangover, rarer still for him to wake with a pretty blonde assassin draped across him. The two occurrences are not unrelated. Hiero doesn’t keep him from drinking altogether, mind, but she provides more than enough distraction to keep him from his usual race to the bottom of a bottle. If he really thought about it, he would be forced to admit that he is merely trading one vice for another, but the cold comfort of a shot glass pales in comparison to the warmth of the pretty little blonde wrapped around him. There is no less guilt perhaps, more if he examines it closely enough, but there is no denying that the beautiful woman currently scraping bright red nails along his flank is by far the more enjoyable weakness.

He hears himself groan as her hand slides between them to cup his balls.

“Just makin’ sure you’re awake, Darlin’.” The lazy cadence of her honeyed drawl would be enough to stiffen his cock even without her hand on him. “You do have somewhere to be this mornin’ after all.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, tracing fingertips along her spine and letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

“That’ll have to wait until after mass, Father.” She gives him a squeeze just this side of too much before letting go entirely and flashes him a decidedly evil smile.

“You don’t have to sound so fucking happy about it,” he grumbles, reaching for her as she rolls away from him.

“Who says I’m happy about it?” He wants to kiss that pretty pout from her lips, but she is already shrugging into his shirt and heading for the door. He raises himself up on his elbows.

“You’re determined to punish me, aren’t you?”

She turns back to him from the doorway. “Punish you, Darlin’?” Her big blue eyes, deceptively innocent, hold his for a beat before she turns away. “I’m just goin’ downstairs to make some coffee while you get yourself up.” She disappears into the hallway, curls bouncing prettily as he rolls his eyes and drops back onto the mattress with a pained sigh. After a moment, he forces himself out of bed and absently reaches for the bottle on the dresser as he makes his way to the shower.

Hiero is settled at his kitchen table when he comes downstairs, feet propped in the neighboring chair and both hands wrapped around the mug on it’s way to her lips. “Merry Christmas, Father.” She takes a sip of her coffee and smiles at him. The smile does not reach her eyes. He moves to kneel beside her chair, resting a hand on her beautifully exposed thigh and admiring the way those pretty blonde curls brush her shoulder as she tilts her head to regard him with an interest far too cool for his liking.

“I know you’re unhappy with me,” he begins, but stops at the challenging arch of an eyebrow, withdrawing his hand from her leg and sitting back on his heels. “Look,” he sighs, “we both know that I can’t keep you from doing anything you’ve set your mind to.”

Her pretty red lips draw into a pout and she leans forward to deposit her mug on the edge of the table. “But you don’t want me to come.”

He considers his words carefully before he speaks. “What I want,” he begins, leaning forward and ducking his head to meet her gaze, “is to make it through the Christmas mass without embarrassing myself.” She rolls her eyes and offers him a reluctant grin. “It’s enough distraction just knowing you’re here...” He reaches out to touch her again, fingers absently tracing over her thigh. “... and after your confession the other night, I don’t have a prayer of getting through this if I have to stand at that altar and watch you sitting there, knowing what kind of thoughts you’ve got in that wicked mind of yours.” He feels her fingers slip into his hair and leans into her touch. “A drunk priest is bad enough, but a priest who turns up to Christmas mass with a hard on...”

“Well hell,” she giggles. “This’ll be the first Christmas I haven’t gone to church since I was five.”

Joseph raises his eyebrows. “Who says you’re not going to church this Christmas?”

She cocks her head, a playful glint coming into those impossibly blue eyes. “Well you did, Darlin’... or am I missin’ somethin’ here?”

“I said no such thing. I only said that I’d prefer you not attend this morning’s mass.” He raises himself up and leans into her with an absolutely filthy leer. “I _fully_ expect to have you in church today, luv.”

His pretty little assassin looks up at him from beneath her lashes, bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Did you just say you plan to _have me_ in church today, Father?”

He is on his knees, tugging her legs down from the chair so he can move between them. “Oh yes, my child.” His hands cup the curve of her ass and he pulls her forward in her chair until she is flush against him. “You were very specific about what you wanted for Christmas, as I recall.”

This earns him a genuinely delighted smile. “And here I thought you hadn’t been payin’ attention.” She brings her mouth to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him with a languid passion that leaves him weak.

“That,” he whispers against her lips, “is not going to help me focus this morning.”

“Mmmm.” She trails open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down the side of his neck, her teeth finally coming to scrape across the sensitive skin just above his collar, and he can only moan as his eyes flutter shut.

“I am completely buggered,” he mutters, bringing a hand up to tangle in her curls.

He has no idea just how right he'd been until Hiero slips into the sanctuary at the end of the mass. He looks up to find her settling herself into a corner of the back pew. She meets his eyes with a tiny smile that can only be described as sinful and arranges herself so that the tip of one red heel peeks out into the aisle.

Joseph is proud of the speed with which he manages to recover, and grateful that she has taken pity on him and chosen to arrive so late, only just in time to make her point. He manages to bring the mass to a close without the feared embarrassment, though he can't help casting his gaze back to the tip of that tantalizing shoe once or twice, and offers up silent thanks for this private little Christmas miracle. Hiero does not rise when the rest of the congregation files out, presumably to rush home to their family celebrations. She keeps her gaze lowered to the clasped hands resting in her lap as he herds his meager flock on its way. He might think her pious if he didn't know better. He does his best not to notice that tiny red trench coat riding up when she oh so casually shifts herself on the polished wood. She raises her eyes only when she hears the bolt on the heavy chapel door slide into place and looks back over her shoulder with a lazy smile.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it, Darlin'?"

She knows what that drawl does to him and she is lazily drawing out every word. He moves behind her pew, his hands on her shoulders, fingers reaching beneath those soft blonde curls to brush bare skin before leaning over her and bringing his lips to her ear.

"You are a very naughty girl, Hiero."

"I am," she agrees. "That's why I wanted to come to church this mornin', Father. I think I might need a little... spiritual guidance."

He should punish her, make her wait, but what purpose would that serve other than to test his own sorely lacking patience? He cannot see it, his face still pressed to the side of hers, but he feels her jaw shift against his cheek and knows that she is worrying that plump lower lip with her teeth. 

"Well, if it's guidance you've come for, my child," he begins in a rough whisper, "perhaps we should make our way to the altar and pray for it."

He feels her tremble and smiles as he straightens to move to her side. His hand reaches out for hers, weaving their fingers together and tugging his lovely assassin to her feet. She allows him to lead her up the aisle to the front of the church, but he knows from experience that she will not remain docile for long.

Even so, it surprises him how quickly she acts when they reach the altar. She takes that lip between her teeth again and frees her hand from his, loosening the belt that holds her coat closed before he can register the brush of her fingertips across his skin. She then proceeds to shrug out of the thing and drop it to the floor, standing before him in nothing but garter belt, stockings, and those sinful heels for only the briefest moment before dropping to the floor herself.

His mouth goes dry at the sight of her kneeling in front of him, gorgeous blue eyes holding his as she raises herself completely onto her knees and brings her hands to his hips. He has imagined her like this at his altar more times than he can count, but the reality of it leaves him shaking with want. He can manage no more than to rasp out her name in a strangled question.

"Hiero?"

A slow, wicked grin spreads across her bright red lips. "Where I come from, Father, we kneel when we pray."

His eyes fall shut with an audible groan, and he hears her delighted giggle, feels her tug at the zipper of his pants. His hands find their way into her hair when he feels the warmth of hers close around his painfully hard cock, and he opens his eyes again just in time to see the tip disappear between her lips. He staggers back against the polished wood just behind him when her tongue swirls lazily around the head, and then her eyes meet his once again, mischief dancing in their azure depths as her lips tighten and slide down along the length of him. He feels the flat of her tongue firm against the underside of his cock when she moves back up to the head, and he would like to allow his eyes to roll back with the pleasure of it but cannot bear to break away from her deliciously wicked stare. She repeats the action with a bit more pressure from that clever tongue and he has no choice in the matter. There is no way he can possibly last if she keeps this up. The image of her alone is nearly enough to finish him. When he feels her hand wrap tight around him and follow her lips up along his shaft, he fists his hands in her hair and a low moan escapes him... and damned if he can't feel her grin around his cock. She pauses in the rhythm she's set to run her tongue around his head again as her hand continues to stroke him, then abruptly sucks the length of him back into her mouth, lips meeting her fingers at his root. She has to stop. Lovely as the thought of spilling himself across that tantalizing tongue is, that is not the way he plans to finish this.

"Enough." He forces the word out on a groan.

She offers up a little hum of protest, but releases him and raises her eyes to his, her lips still brushing against the head of his cock as she speaks.

"Don't you like it, Darlin'?"

He uses the hands in her hair to tug her head back, coherent thought coming so much easier without the feel of her warm breath across his skin.

“I like it very much,” he assures her. “That’s the problem.”

She grins up at him, a smug pull of her lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t call that a problem, Darlin’.” She leans forward to take him in her mouth again, but he tugs her head back a little more forcefully.

“Later,” he hisses. “I have other plans for you at the moment.”

His grip in her hair is loose enough to allow a speculative tilt of her head. “And what plans are those, Father?”

“I believe,” he begins, tugging on her hair again to bring her to her feet in front of him, “that you wanted to be taken on the altar, my child.”

She moves closer, a hand coming up to toy with his collar. “It seems I do remember somethin’ like that,” she allows.

“Mmm,” Her mouth is inches from his, “you painted such a pretty picture...” He pulls her closer, hands still fisted in those pretty blonde curls, and nips at that plump bottom lip. “It would be a shame to miss seeing it in the flesh.” He allows her no time to respond to his husky whisper against her parted lips, slanting his mouth over hers with a ferocity that steals her breath and finally releasing his grip on her hair to lower his hands to her backside. He pulls her tight against him and she wraps her arms around his neck, urging him closer still. 

He pulls back from the kiss only when it becomes necessary to draw breath, nipping at her lips before trailing more kisses along her jaw. He brings his mouth to her ear again, and growls two words in a rough command. “Turn around.”

Hiero turns her head to look at him, and she is magnificent... breathless, eyes dark as a winter storm, lips swollen from his kisses. She takes a step back, shifting to face the altar without hesitation, then flattens both hands against the polished wood, looking back at him over her shoulder with a grin before sliding her hands out in front of her and bending at the waist. She tosses him another glance then shifts her stance, moving her feet apart, and arranges herself across the altar’s surface... ass in the air, legs spread wide. She is completely exposed, and what a lovely offering she makes.

He allows himself a moment to simply admire the sight of her, dripping and ready for him, before moving closer and pressing his hard length against her. His fingers travel along her spine, starting at the base of her neck and tracing a maddeningly slow path to her ass while she cants her hips and pushes back into him with mounting impatience. He is more than a little impatient himself, though he’s not willing to let her see it just yet.

“Is this what you wanted?” he teases, knowing full well that it is.

“You know it is, Darlin’,”  she pants, head down between her outstretched arms. “Don’t make me wait.”

He leans over her, lips brushing between her shoulders on his way to nip at the base of her neck, and whispers, “Just making sure, luv. Wouldn’t want you upset with me again.” He straightens before she can respond, taking himself in hand, and guiding his cock through her slick folds. He fills her with one quick thrust then stills inside her as she tightens herself around him. Forcing himself to focus, he bends over her again. “What was it you wanted specifically?” He tries and fails to keep his voice steady, forcing the words out on a ragged groan. “Bent over my altar...” His fingers skim the length of her arm to close about her wrist. “teasing your clit...” and here he brings her hand down, guiding it between her legs and smiling at the sharp gasp that escapes her, “while I fuck you hard from behind?” 

“Oh God!” It is somewhere between a moan and a scream. “Please, Father!”

He feels the shudder run through her body as her fingers flutter over the tight bundle of nerves at her opening and his control snaps. Done with teasing, he raises himself up, pulling almost completely out of her wet heat then snapping his hips and slamming back into her with a muttered ‘ _fuck’_. He sets a harsh rhythm, her soft cries growing louder as she pushes back onto him with each thrust, and pours himself into her just as her muscles begin to clench around his cock. He falls forward, draping himself over her and nuzzling into her hair as he struggles to catch his breath, vaguely aware when she withdraws the hand between her legs and brings it up to toss back over her shoulder, fingers tangling in his hair. She gives it a hard tug.

“You made me beg, Darlin’.” 

“Aye.” He can’t help the smug grin, even though he is certain she can feel his lips curl against her bare shoulder.

She tugs harder this time.

“I never beg.” 

“Until now,” he points out helpfully, and perhaps he shouldn’t taunt his pretty little assassin.

There’s no telling what she might do once she’s recovered enough to move. 

He can’t wait to find out.


End file.
